Not Alone
by KamalaC
Summary: Graverobber's life flashes before his eyes at a most inopportune moment. He reflects on the two things in his life which have remained always with him. Warning: Morbid, not very fluffy.


Leaping over a tombstone, Graverobber felt the sting of a bullet passing through his side. Grunting in pain, he forced himself to keep going. There was still a chance he could get out of this. He'd been in worse predicaments before.

*****

Graverobber was fourteen the first time he'd had a close encounter with the Genecops. His mentor, Dealer, had sent him on his first solo heist in the graveyard and everything was going smoothly. He'd just finished plundering the Wallace family crypt when the sirens had gone off. Clutching his bag of goods to his chest, the rag-clad boy ran for the gates. Adrenaline rushing through him, Graverobber ducked behind tombstones and into shadows, trying to remember everything Dealer had told him about remaining unseen. Upon reaching the relative safety of the street, Graverobber headed back to the basement he shared with Dealer.

"I'm sorry the haul's not so big, I-"

"You survived then, I take it," the older man interrupted. "Good job."

Graverobber stared at him for a second before it clicked. "You… you tipped them off! You bastard! Why?"

"Because a little shock now and then is good for the system." Dealer seemed unfazed by Graverobber's anger. "You need to let them know you're there once in a while, to make sure you can still out-run them. You outran them, so nothing to worry about for now. I'm going to sleep now, I suggest you do the same." With that, Dealer went back to the pile of blankets he called a bed. Graverobber stayed put, glaring at the old man until he was asleep. Then he gathered his things, the Zydrate guns and empty vials, and turned to leave. Something caught his eye and he grinned.

Before leaving, Graverobber stole Dealer's coat.

*****

Laughing maniacally, Graverobber collapsed against the wall of a tomb. The cops were still on his trail, still hot for his blood. They had become a lot more bloodthirsty in the years since Amber had taken over Geneco, seeming to mirror their new mistress.

Graverobber grit his teeth as thoughts of Amber came back, along with the rising bile which always accompanied thoughts of her.

*****

The first time Graverobber met Amber, she still had the remnants of natural beauty. She was also still Amber Largo. Her lovely dark hair was fluffy under his hands, her limbs still supple, body still soft. Her eyes were the same as now though – cold, cruel and hungry for the Zydrate he carried.

The desire for her faded over the years as she continued to search for perfection. Graverobber could have told her that it was pointless, but knew she wouldn't listen. Discretion was a large part of his job, so he kept silent as the beautiful young girl he'd eagerly tumbled with turned into a dark mass of scars. They stopped talking beyond what was necessary, and even this degenerated soon into insults and mutual hatred.

But she kept coming back, and he kept letting her. Graverobber wasn't entirely sure who the bigger fool was.

Once Amber had Geneco, the visits stopped. He figured that it was the fact that with her unlimited access to surgery and Zydrate, she didn't need to stoop to the gutters for his wares. Graverobber didn't really mind the loss of her custom – in fact it was good for business, now that he could sell more Zydrate for money – but it still hurt. She didn't need him anymore. Figuring that's just how things went, Graverobber quickly found a series of girls to climb into his bed. At least these he didn't have to pay in Zydrate.

They'd all hated the coat.

*****

Grunting in pain, Graverobber pushed open the door to the Wallace crypt. Leaning against it to close it, Graverobber sank down the door and onto the floor, realising that he couldn't make it home. The pain was too much, and he was losing too much blood. Reluctantly, he pulled out his Zydrate gun. Shooting up was dangerous, given his addictive personality, but bleeding out in a crypt wasn't exactly healthy either.

The vials were proving problematic. The blood on his hands made them slippery, and he struggled to put one into the gun. As the door to the passage opened, a vial slipped through his fingers and smashed on the floor. Cursing, Graverobber leaned his head back against the door and closed his eyes.

He could feel someone approaching, but couldn't work up the energy to care. Gentle hands took the gun and another vial from him, and seconds later he felt the gun pressed to his neck.

"Are you sure, Graverobber?" Shilo's voice, steady through the tears.

"Hit me, Kid." A small flash of pain as the drug entered, then the calm spreading through his body as it made its way through his system. Knowing he was slipping, he reached up and grabbed Shilo's arm. "Stay with me?"

He opened his eyes and saw Shilo smiling sadly at him.

"Of course. You're not alone now."

Nodding, Graverobber fought to stay focused on her eyes as she wrapped his coat tighter around him. Forgiving to a fault, always watching, always noticing more than she let on.

"Thanks Kid. You're a doll."


End file.
